Butcher Bird

by Richard Kadrey

  The Ubarian grew quiet. He turned and embraced Spyder and the others in turn. The dignitaries all rushed forward to shake their hands and kiss their cheeks, as the group made their way back to Cornelius.

  When Bel came forward to shake, Spyder held on to his hand. “Tell this asshole we need a lift out of here,” he said to Shrike.

  She spoke quietly to the prince as the other dignitaries clustered around, praising them in a dozen languages. They’re worse than demons, Spyder thought. Demons can’t help being creepy.

  A moment later Shrike returned. “It’s set. We can head out in an hour, when the ship is ready to launch.”

  “Cool.”

  When they’d all climbed onto Cornelius’ back, Spyder ordered him to rise as quickly as possible. The dignitaries gave a collective “Ooo,” as the man-machine whirred and clanked to life and set out around the city walls to where the airships were berthed.

  They waited with the prince beneath his new scorpion airship that seemed half again as big as the old one. The prince barked orders to a small group of deck hands waiting on the ground and these were relayed up to the ship in an elaborate series of whistles and arms gestures. A few minutes later, a huge cargo net was lowered down from the ship. Cornelius stepped into the net and curled his legs under his body, settling down like a giant cat. With a jerk, Spyder, Shrike, Lulu and Cornelius were hoisted up and onto the prince’s airship.

  Half an hour later, the big scorpion banked gently starboard and headed out to sea with a dozen other airships trailing behind. The morning sun turned the edges of the ships to fire, so that Bel’s was trailed by a burning swan, a school of fiery fish, a glowing snake skeleton and a perfect silver sphere that reflected the sky, sea and all the other ships nearby.

  “You sure this guy knows the way to Alexandria?” Spyder asked Shrike.

  “He doesn’t, but his navigators know their way through all the Spheres. Relax.”

  Prince Bel gave them his best rooms. They happily cleaned up and settled in. When they weren’t busy sleeping, crew members brought in a constant stream of food and wine. Shrike didn’t let on that she could speak the prince’s language, and enjoyed reporting what she heard while eavesdropping.

  “It’s like a game of Telephone,” she said. “The rumors circulate, getting bigger and bigger. Spyder is an archangel or maybe the new Lucifer. I get the feeling that a lot of asylums emptied across the Spheres when Hell came down.”

  Spyder relaxed on a silk-covered fainting couch, with Shrike curled up next to him.

  “It’s nice to be well thought of for a change,” he said.

  “Can’t argue with that,” Lulu said, blowing smoke rings and watching them float away through an open window.

  The trip was calm and slow. Exactly what they needed, Spyder thought. He and Shrike disappeared into the unoccupied rooms in their wing of the ship and made love as often as they could. At other times, Shrike went up on deck and practiced with her sword, getting used to having her sight back. However, in the back of his mind, regardless of whatever they were doing, was always the image of Madame Cinders. What the hell was he supposed to do when they confronted her? He shook his head, pushing the thought back into the dark. What had the Count said? “You will never have more than what you have at this moment.” If that’s true, thought Spyder, it’s all right with me.

  By the time Bel delivered them to Alexandria, they were getting twitchy and restless. Shrike had spotted angels flying near the ship one night. They couldn’t decide if that was a good sign or bad, but decided it was time to get off.

  The prince, who’d kept his distance during the flight, appeared in full royal drag when it was time for them to disembark. He and Shrike exchanged a few polite words on deck, but it was obvious that he was as anxious to have them gone, as they were to get away from him. With a wave of his hand, the cargo net lowered Cornelius to the ground in an open area near Alexandria’s main port. Spyder, Shrike and Lulu were already on the spider’s back.

  “It looks like Brighton,” Cornelius said. “I think. Maybe not. But it’s very beautiful.”

  What first struck Spyder about being back in an earthly city with cars and humans, pollution and fast-food joints, was how completely unremarkable it felt to be riding on the back of a giant mechanical spider borrowed from a friend in Hell, moving unseen through streets alongside the spirits, angels and fantastic beasts that inhabited the other Spheres. Shrike directed Cornelius to the tangled streets of the Medina, and they retraced the route Primo had taken them just days before. Seems like a century, Spyder thought, as they turned a corner and seemed to leave ordinary Alexandria and entered the ruins of the necropolis complex. As before, thin children stood on enormous stones watching them. This time, though, a few of the older children waved to them and turned to whisper to each other before their parents came and nervously hustled them away.

  “That’s a bit more honest,” said Spyder. “Seems like everyone knows who we are, but someone finally admitted they’re not happy to see us.”

  “Not everyone loves a god-killer,” said Shrike quietly.

  “You said the Clerks weren’t gods.”

  “They’re weren’t. But I’m not sure that detail means much to these people.”

  “Probably know there’s a shit storm coming,” said Lulu, “If this Cinders bitch is what you say she is.”

  “She is,” replied Shrike. “And more.”

  At the next bend in the road, the great onion dome and minarets of Madame Cinders’ compound swung into view.

  FIFTY-NINE

  AT THE END OF THE DAY, LUCK ALWAYS FAILS

  “You lose my Gytrash and bring me back this useless deviant?” rasped Madame Cinders.

  They stood before Madame Cinders in her tower room. The over-sweet scent of mutant orchids and the old woman’s rotting flesh almost made Spyder gag.

  “One, we didn’t lose him. He was our friend and he died trying to get that damned book for you,” Spyder said. “Two, we didn’t bring Lulu back for you, lady. You don’t deserve her used panty shields. And three, if you think deviants are useless, we must not know the same deviants.”

  “Give me my book.”

  “What’s the magic word all good children say when they want something?”

  They’d entered Madame Cinders’ fortress without bothering to wait for her servants to open the front gates. Spyder had Cornelius kick his way through. The splintering wood and twisting iron hinges flew to pieces with a very satisfying amount of noise. Ten of Cinders’ guards had run into the courtyard, but they scattered when they got a good look at Cornelius. Spyder and the others had strolled straight through Cinders’ palace and up her tower with Cornelius guarding their rear. No one challenged them as they went.

  “Give me my book,” repeated Madame Cinders.

  “Pretty please, with sugar on top,” said Spyder. “That’s what good children say.”

  It had been a tight squeeze, getting Cornelius up the narrow staircase to the top of Cinders’ tower. He had to turn his great mechanical body sideways and crab slowly upward, his head cutting a deep scar into the top of the passage.

  Spyder gestured for Cornelius to come forward and drop the book. As it hit the floor, the tower shook as if an earthquake had hit it. Cinders’ guards looked around anxiously, as bones, dried herbs and potions tumbled from the shelves, but Madame Cinders showed no outward reaction. Spyder wasn’t surprised. She looked even worse, more inhuman than when they’d left her.

  “I’ve heard about your doings in the underworld. You think you have power now that you’ve defeated a few miscreant angels,” she said. “But you know nothing about power.”

  Madame Cinders was no longer in her wheelchair. She was laid out flat on a kind of mechanical gurney, atop a pile of stained silk pillows. She looked at them reflected in a gold-framed mirror perched at an angle above her head. Spyder was sure she’d shrunk in size. Were her legs missing? The pump system, that injected and drained whatever horrible
fluids kept her feeble flesh moving, had doubled in size and complexity, and was nearly as large as the gurney. Still, even trapped in that ruined body, she managed to project both menace and intelligence. Spyder didn’t like looking at her. She stank like an old abattoir. Spyder patted his pockets, found the last of the tobacco he’d acquired at Berenice and began rolling a cigarette.

  “There’s no smoking in the presence of the Madame,” said one of her guards. Spyder ignored him. He licked the paper lengthwise and rolled the cigarette closed.

  Madame Cinders continued, “Any fool can stumble into luck once, twice, even a hundred times, but at the end of the day, luck always fails. Then, skill and knowledge are required. You have neither. The Butcher Bird has some, but not enough to save you both.”

  “I have plenty of skill. I’m a pretty good tattoo artist. And I can always pour beer without it getting all foamy,” said Spyder.

  “The last time you were here, the Butcher Bird was the one who spoke. Now, puffed up and preening, you do all the talking. Or are you the distraction while she carries out some action against me?”

  “I’m not speaking, witch, because I have nothing to say to you,” said Shrike.

  Cinders laughed her awful, gurgling laugh. “But you have your sight, child. And soon you will have your father. I should think you’d be grateful for these things.”

  “If we’re not gushing and grateful it’s ’cause you lied to us. The book was never yours. You conned and you lied and you blackmailed us into stealing it for you,” said Spyder.

  “Did I? How wrong of me.” Cinders’ pumps kicked into action, hissing and cranking, filling the tower room with noise. A thick green discharge was extracted from Cinders’ midsection while separate pink and clear fluids dripped through tubes embedded in her skull.

  “Neither your feigned outrage nor your glibness can hide your fear, boy. You forget, your mind is as clear and open to me as the sky in mid-summer. I know you want to keep me from taking the book, but you cannot. You know my vengeance would be fearsome. There’s the girl’s father. And the other thing.”

  “What other thing?” Spyder asked.

  “How is my father?” demanded Shrike.

  “Well. And quite himself. No longer mad,” said Madame Cinders. “You’ve gotten what you wanted, yet you’ve come here full of malice and with the intention of denying me the book.”

  “What’s the other thing?” asked Spyder.

  The old woman laughed. “You have no idea, do you? You really know nothing about power.” In the mirror, Madame Cinders’ eyes flickered toward her guards. “Kill them.”

  Shrike was moving before the old woman had finished speaking, slashing one guard across the midsection before his sword was drawn, and then slicing through another’s throat. Crouching, she spun and ripped her blade through the knees of two guards who rushed her from behind. As the men fell, she lunged and disemboweled a third. Launching herself into the air, she caught the last guard with a kick to the temple that sent him rolling over a table.

  Lulu had the four-ten up at her shoulder and was blowing holes in guards and the walls of Madame Cinders’ tower. Spyder ducked as a guard swung his sword at his head. Springing from his knees, he thrust Apollyon’s blade up and into the man’s heart.

  An arrow shot past Shrike’s right ear. She whirled around and saw one of the now legless guards reloading a crossbow. Shrike brought her sword down in a sharp arc, slicing off the guard’s arm below the elbow. When she advanced on the second legless guard, he held his empty, trembling hands out before him in a gesture of terrified submission. Shrike turned and swung her blade towards Madame Cinders, but the old woman was ready. Later, Spyder realized that Madame Cinders had thrown her guards at Shrike as a sacrifice, knowing that she’d tear them to pieces, but would be distracted enough not to see what was coming.

  In the fraction of a second it took for Shrike to turn her blade toward Cinders, the old woman pressed together the withered claws that were her hands. A screeching filled the air, like the metal wheels of a dozen subway trains slamming on their brakes at the same time and Shrike was lifted from the floor in the jaws of one of Madame Cinders’ enormous mechanical orchids. The serrated blades of the machine’s jaws tightened on Shrike’s ribs until she screamed.

  “Cornelius!” Spyder shouted.

  The spider clattered forward, its metal legs gouging holes in the stone floor as it shot at Madame Cinders. Spyder climbed onto a table and tried to reach Shrike’s outstretched hand. Lulu shot at the base of the metal bloom, but her shots bounced off, filing the air with hot shrapnel. Cinders didn’t notice them or didn’t care. She threw a small glass vial at Cornelius. It broke on the ground before him and where the fluid splashed on him, his metallic body glowed and began to melt. Cornelius screamed in fear and pain as the internal fire spread throughout his body. He turned and ran for the stairs. Blinded by the heat, he missed and smashed into the far wall, exploding into a thousand twitching fragments of bone and metal.

  “This, you must have guessed, is the other thing. Taking the thing you love,” said Madame Cinders. “You won’t attack as long as I can kill the girl. It’s in your eyes. See how easy it is to stop you? You know nothing about power.” She turned her gaze to the iron orchid and it lifted its head, carrying Shrike almost to the ceiling. She hung limply in its jaws, not fighting anymore. Spyder swore he could hear her ribs crack.

  “No one in this world or any other will hold me in this dying body any longer,” Madame Cinders said. “The Dominions and I will rule completely. I’m not greedy. Let them have the universe. I’m happy with this one small world.”

  Cinders reached under the folds of her hijab and pulled, breaking a thin gold chain that held a small vial around her neck. Pushing a button on her gurney, she rolled forward, positioning herself next to the great book.

  “I’ve guarded this vial for a hundred years,” she said. “It’s the last of my blood. I had it extracted when my body succumbed to the curse, after returning from Hell. I’ve been a slave to these machines ever since. No more. With this blood sacrifice, I’ll be reborn into a new body.” Madame Cinders inclined her head toward Shrike. “Perhaps I’ll take hers. If I haven’t already broken it too badly.”

  She raised her shriveled hand and upended the vial over the Dominions’ book. The thick red fluid spread over the book’s face like a living thing. It smoked where it touched the runes. The blood bubbled, and the book began to drink it down. Then it rose slowly and silently until it hovered just above Madame Cinders’ head. She pushed open the cover and ran her hand ecstatically over the thick pages. With another small gesture she brought the book closer to her face until it was almost touching her. Then, she bent her head forward and bit into it, chewed and swallowed.

  As the old woman ate, Lulu came to where Spyder stood. When he saw her twitch the barrel of the four-ten up a few inches, he reached over and pushed the gun back down. “No,” he whispered.

  The old woman ripped at the book with her teeth.

  “I consume myself. I consume the wisdom of the true gods,” she said. It sounded like some spell or prayer. She seemed to have forgotten about Spyder and Lulu, her dying guards, everyone else in the room. “Let their power fill me.” Each time she swallowed a piece of the book, her voice grew stronger. When Spyder could see her arms, the flesh was transforming, returning to a more natural color.

  When Madame Cinders had eaten all of the book’s pages, she sat up on her gurney, looked at Spyder and Lulu and smiled. “You have no idea what this is like. I can see everything. Every Sphere, every creature and blade of grass within. This is what the Dominions see. These are the eyes of god.” Her flesh returned quickly, and as she spoke, her face transformed to that of the young woman in the painting above the Empire desk. She was human, almost beautiful. Spyder hated her even more now.

  All that was left of the book was the spine, and Madame Cinders devoured it quickly, impatient to finish her meal. With her new, strong hands,
Madame Cinders pulled the tubes from her arms and body. She turned and slid slowly from the gurney to the floor, wobbling on her legs like a newborn calf. Spyder looked up at Shrike. She wasn’t moving at all. Madame Cinders walked toward Lulu and him. He took a step back, but a fallen table blocked him from moving any further.

  She stood in front of Spyder and stretched like a cat, feeling her body coming back to life. Then she leaned toward him and whispered, “Am I not beautiful?” She giggled like a young woman just finding her body for the first time and realizing the power in her flesh. “Do you want me?” she asked him in a purring, seductive voice.

  Spyder stared at her. “Fuck you.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Fuck me. No one’s done that in a long time. And when I’m satisfied, I’ll teach you to use that power you have but are going to squander.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Don’t you?” she asked. The metal flower moved and Shrike screamed. Spyder froze where he was.

  “All right,” he said. “Anything you want. I’ll do it.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lulu, also frozen in place, her face drained of all color.

  Madame Cinders put her cheek next to Spyder’s. “Will you kill your deviant friend for me? Just for my amusement?” Spyder didn’t answer. “No? You care about her that much? Good. I’ll keep her with the other to keep you from developing foolish ideas.”

  “What do you want with me?” asked Spyder. “You’re becoming one of the gods now. You can have anyone you want.”

  She smiled at him brightly. “I want you because you have the power. I can’t have that just wandering around in the world,” she said. “And because I don’t like you, and it will kill you to stay with me, but you will anyway because of these two.” She moved her hand toward Shrike and Lulu. “You know nothing about power. But I’ll teach you,” she said, and leaned in to kiss Spyder on the lips. As their lips came together something sizzled in the air and they were both thrown apart by an electric shock that seemed to burn through every muscle in Spyder’s body.